This Could Be The Start of Something
by Thesaurusgirl
Summary: Colby's friends do him a favor. Maybe


**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the characters. Wish I did. Colby should beware of friends bearing gifts.**

This Could Be The Start of Something

TGIF. The Los Angeles field office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was a technological marvel of efficiency filled with to capacity with dedicated field agents and innumerable support personnel. Monday thru Friday and on all too many Saturday's and Sunday's could find most of them hard at work trying to hold the line against whatever new deviltry the criminals, terrorists and other miscreants and various nere do well's, an extremely creative bunch, could dream up. Weekends, holidays and vacations were an afterthought, so strong was their commitment. Yeah, right.

Truth was, on Friday night, just like office buildings everywhere, the agent's and other occupants housed in the LA field office were doing their level best to maximize weekend time. And that meant making it out of the building and, in most cases, to the nearest watering hole or chosen form of relaxation as soon as possible.

Don Eppes team of agents, as good as they were at what they did, were no different. The four of them ate, slept and breathed the job, but that didn't mean they'd forgotten how to have a good time.

So, when Charlie Eppes invited the entire crew to his craftsman home for a barbeque to celebrate the wrapping of the latest difficult case, none of them even thought of saying no.

"Besides" Colby quipped to David, "Somebody should be there with a fire extinguisher to put out the altar after Charlie sacrifices more steaks to the math gods."

Don felt obligated to make at least the token agent-in-charge noises about reports and other paperwork being completed but they could all tell his heart wasn't really in it, especially given the speed with which he disposed of his own mound of forms and folders. Of course, he could have also been trying to avoid being present for yet another Friday night "administrative brainstorming" session in the AD's office, something the bosses had become enamored of recently.

The barbeque had been a rousing success, the centerpiece of which had been the succulent steaks emerging from the Eppes family grill. The tender, tasty beef that had provided the diners with such a satisfying experience was no accident.

Don, David, Nikki and Robin, who had dropped in to see her FBI significant other and found herself invited to the get-together, had all left the office as a group.

Colby, however, had insisted on running an errand first. One he'd refused to discuss, disappearing into the elevator with a smile worthy of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa. He'd arrived an hour later at Charlie's, a mysterious butcher paper wrapped package under his arm. The contents, as it turned out, were an assortment of ribeye's, t-bones and filet mignon. When questioned as to where the steaks had come from, his only response was smug, cryptic grin.

A coordinated effort by team FBI Eppes, assisted by Larry Fleinhardt, had been successful in easing the barbequing tongs from professor Eppes's hand and into Colby's and Alan's, the more experienced cookout artist's of the bunch. A quick consultation between the two had consigned Charlie's original offerings, already overcooked and past edible, to charcoal briquette heaven. Charlie was distracted into the garage by Larry, while his father and Colby had taken over the cooking chores. The result was a happy, well satisfied crowd, relishing the rare chance to relax .

After dinner time found them broken up into several groups. Charlie and Larry had disappeared once again into the garage, lured by the contents of Charlie's ubiquitous chalkboards. Don, Alan, Colby and David were congregated around Alan's television, watching the Laker's demolish the opposing team. Amita, Millie, Robin Brooks and Nikki Bentancourt had drawn up some of Alan's very comfortable outdoor furniture around the coy pond and were engaged in an activity well understood by any living female. They were discussing the ways in which their men could be improved, for the guys own good of course.

Gradually, as enjoyable as it was, the gathering began to break up, David, Colby, Millie and Nikki drifting to his or her own mode of transportation and heading for home. Eventually, only Don, Charlie and Alan were left, the younger Eppes's being drafted for clean-up detail, while Robin and Amita remained out of the women, quietly talking at the dining room table. They had exhausted all of their ideas for the Don and Charlie Eppes improvement project and so had decided, with the help of just enough excellent California wine, to move on to the other male members of Don's team.

"What Granger and Sinclair need" Robin Brooks offered sagely, after another sip, "are a couple of good, strong women in their lives. A steady relationship, so they can both ditch all these one night stands. Especially Granger. I mean, the guy really needs a woman he doesn't have a favorite beer in common with."

"I've always liked Colby a lot," Amita responded, "but I have to agree with you. Thing is, as much as I like him, he could definitely use some help meeting the right woman."

"And I think I might know just the one" Robin said after a moment. " A new ADA in my office that just moved here from Seattle. Her name is Kerri Walton. She's perfect for him. Attractive, smart, stable. She's even looking to settle in with a guy who won't mess with her head. She just got out of that. She told me that much. I think Colby could fit that bill."

She and Amita traded a conspiratorial look. They clinked glasses in one final toast.

" With that, I declare this inaugural meeting of the 'What Would They Do Without Us' matchmakers club officially adjourned" Amita said, polishing off the last of her wine as Charlie, Alan and Don came back into the room.

"Of all the things that come with this job, testifying is probably the biggest pain. Prepping for it is second" Colby Granger griped as he and David Sinclair arrived at the Federal Courthouse the next Monday. They were there to meet with an Assistant DA to go over their testimony in court the next day on one of their cases. David pulled the car into a space in the underground garage, just acing out a BMW angling for the spot. Any day he could do that, he reflected silently, was a good one.

"You say that every time. Besides, I happen to know for a fact that you, my friend, hate doing paperwork a whole lot more than court prep or testifying, so I'm not buying it." David responded.

"Ok" Colby conceded reluctantly. "You got me there. But I still hate court prep. And lawyers, ugh. This whole testifying thing would go a lot smoother without the lawyers." The absurdity of this statement was lost on a grouchy Colby, but not on his partner, who chuckled and shook his head.

" Colby, man, you want to tell me how the courts are supposed to function without attorneys?" David asked, making sure his FBI badge and id were available as they approached the underground security station. He saw Granger mirroring his actions as they walked.

"I don't know" was the answer. "but I'd like to see them try it. Don't get me wrong, I don't _hate _alllawyers or anything, but some of 'em make my teeth itch.". He paused. "You don't have to tell Don I said that, or Robin either."

"Who, me?" David grinned, his face the picture of innocence as they were passed thru the checkpoint. Just beyond lay a bank of elevators that would carry them to the building's street level. Sinclair pressed the call button.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Shots rang out behind them. Reflexively, both men pulled their weapons, ducking and spinning about, trying to look in every direction at once to locate the source. BLAM! The task of finding out where the shots were coming from was made much easier when the fourth projectile chipped the wall above Colby's head, peppering him with tiny shards of tile and plaster. Ahead of them, they could see, lying in an ever expanding blood pool, a security guard, his barely audible moans of pain the only signs of life. He'd been the attacker's first target.

They could also see the shooter, his arm looped tightly around the throat of a slender, dark-haired woman who seemed fairly composed, considering the circumstances she now found herself in. The gunman alternated between aiming his automatic pistol at the two agents and other armed personnel arriving to deal with the situation, and using it to threaten his hostage by placing it to her head. Far from seeming hysterical or panicked by what was happening, the woman seemed to be muttering in a low voice over her shoulder, actually communicating with her assailant, who, by contrast, seemed on the verge of losing control entirely.

"Let her go! You gotta know there's no way you walk out of here with her! Come on, think about it!" Sinclair called out to the agitated gunman.

"Do me a favor" Colby commented soto-voiced to his partner as they moved in, guns held ready to return fire, providing they got any chance at a clear shot. "Try not to end up trading yourself for the hostage this time. I really would not like to end up assaulting another elevator, 'kay?"

"Stay back! Stay away, back up. I'll shoot her! I will! I ain't got no reason not to! GET AWAY!!!!" The man was clearly growing angrier that he was not being obeyed.

"In the first place" David returned as they crept even nearer, "In case you missed it, we're between him and the elevator. "and in the second place, what are you complaining about?, I'm the one who ended up with a bruised chest, after nearly getting killed by my would be 'rescuers'.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have the pleasure of dealing with the SWAT team leader. It was like talking to a know-it-all older brother. One who doesn't think you're smart enough to dress yourself" Colby snapped back.

Just then, the opportunity Sinclair and Granger had been waiting on came when the sound of a car entering behind the disheveled, sweating gun-toter and his victim distracted the man. He turned his head, slipped, stumbled and tried to recover, but lost his grip on his hostage, which gave Colby the angle he needed. When the gunman turned back to aim his pistol at the agents, Granger fired one round. Colby nailed his target, knocking him back and away from the woman, who'd lost her balance when she was released and fell to the ground. Moving in quickly, the uniforms soon had the situation in hand. The wounded security officer was rushed off to the nearest hospital as was the former shooter, in custody, of course.

Paramedics had attempted to offer aid to the man's former hostage and had their efforts testily rebuffed. Brushing aside the offered assistance, she pushed to her feet from the bench she was sitting on and marched over to Granger and Sinclair, visibly ticked off. Long sable colored hair fanning out behind her, she strode up to Colby until they were standing only a few inches apart. Hands on her hips, she glared up at him, green eyes flashing angrily.

"Just what did you think you were doing, shooting him?!" I had the situation under control! In a couple more minutes, I would've had the guy talked down! You didn't need to shoot! Just like the Bureau! Are you all a bunch of trigger-happy freaks?!" That said, she turned on a black leather clad heel and stomped off, leaving Colby and David staring after her, momentarily dumbstruck.

Colby's was furious. Why did he end up with all the surly ones? First Bonnie Parks and now this. He wasn't looking for hero worship, but this was just too much! Striding after the unnamed lady, who was headed back to retrieve the spilled contents of her briefcase, he caught her by the arm, turning her around.

"Now, just a minute" he began. He got no further.

Jerking her arm free, her hands went to her hips again as she spat out "take your hands off me! What do you think you're doing!?"

"You know what, I'm not looking for a parade here, but even if you can't bring yourself to say thanks to somebody who probably just saved your life, you might at least try not being nasty about it!"

"Saved my life!? I told you, I had it under control. I didn't need your help!" she yelled at him.

"You coulda fooled me!" Colby fired back, just as loud.

"Why do I get the feeling that's not to hard to do!?" She said, upping the decibel level.

That tore it. "Lady, you are a rude, ill-tempered, ungrateful…" Colby stopped as David Sinclair came up, inserting himself between the two verbal combatants.

"Colby, Colby, come man" David moved sideways to keep between Granger, who was trying to go around him, and his sparing partner. "Colby, we got business to take care of, remember. I mean, you guys are, uh, putting on a good show and all," he gestured around to show the exchange had attracted the amused attention of the remainder of the garage's current occupants. "but, we gotta go" He managed to pull Colby, who'd cooled down just slightly, along with him toward their original destination of the elevators, leaving the lady glowering after them, arms crossed.

Entering the first one that came, Colby settled against the back wall, mightily ticked off. Beside him, David was shaking his head and chuckling soundlessly.

Colby, still irritated, give him a dark look, and then managed a sore laugh, as he realized how ridiculous the whole scene was. "Bite me" he told Sinclair, who was still snickering.

"And I don't want to hear anything about low social skills either" he threw at David, who laughed even harder.

Robin Brooks office in the Federal Courthouse was, in her opinion, a well appointed closet, but she loved it because she could do something the more junior ADA's could not. Close the door. It was an option she took advantage of often, particularly when up to her neck in a trying case. Like the one before her now. The defendant, a financier playing fast and loose with his clients money, could afford to hire his very own "dream team" legal defense. Added to this was the fact that the judge hearing the case seemed to have developed some sort of personal dislike for Robin. She was going to need her ducks lined up, marching and quacking in three part harmony for this one.

Thus, her office door was in the closed position, and she was totally focused on the case she would be giving opening arguments for in the morning when her concentration was broken by the briefest of knocks, followed by the entrance of the newest arrival to her office, Kerri Walton.

Robin had been assigned as Kerri's mentor after Kerri's appearance in Los Angeles, and the two women had quickly formed a cautious but growing friendship. In background, temperament and preferences, they discovered they had a lot in common. Also, Robin decided, Kerri had a very sharp legal mind and, just like Robin, a take no prisoners attitude in the courtroom. Her composure was the talk of the office. Especially after an incident in the parking garage three weeks ago. Kerri had actually briefly been taken hostage by a man whose tax troubles and worries over a pending court case had knocked him left of center. Rather than being rattled about having a nine-millimeter placed to her head, she'd come in to the office more upset with the FBI agent who'd removed the threat by shooting her captor. She'd been so angry at the agent that she hadn't even gotten his name. Right now, though, her considerable aplomb seemed to have deserted her.

"Robin, I need your help. I really screwed up. I got on the bad side of somebody who knows somebody who knows the right somebody, meaning our boss. I can't get canned, I've only been here three months!" she finished, landing in one of the chairs in front of Robin's desk, head in hands.

It took Robin a while to get a complete explanation of the problem and to convince Kerri her "major gaff" wasn't the end of the world, or her career. Gradually, though, it happened. By then, Robin had decided to finish her preparation for the next day at home. Stuffing papers into the leather bag which also held her laptop, she and Kerri headed for the garage.

"Guess you'll never look at this place again the same way" Robin joked to her counterpart as they steppe out of the elevator into the parking area.

"What, oh, you mean that whole gun, hostage, shooting thing. Huh, I was fine. It was the FBI who couldn't keep it in their pants!" Kerri stopped, realizing what she'd just blurted. She and Robin looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Okay, maybe I could've put that better, but you know what I mean. And then, he had the nerve to try and tell me off for not batting my eyes at him and gushing like a good little rescued damsel in distress. What is it with guys. Some of 'em anyway. Yours seems to be a pretty good catch, even if he is one of "them".

"Them?" Robin asked, amused.

"Yeah, you know, a cop, albeit a federal one. I really would like to find a good guy of my own.. One I could trust. Not like jerkface back in Seattle. Every time I think about walking in and finding him in _our_ bed with that little…" She took a deep breath. "There I go again. I said I wasn't going to give either of them any more space in my head." They'd reached their respective automobile's, parked near one another.

"Well, I've bent your ear off. Again" Kerr smile apologetically. "Thanks for listening, and for peeling me off the ceiling tiles."

"What are friends for?" Robin responded. She'd been the newbie once. "See you tomorrow."

Kerri watched her walk way and turned and got into her own car. "That went pretty well" she thought. Maybe this whole LA move was going to work after all.

On the drive home, Robin, after considering for a moment, voice dialed a number from memory. It was answered after the second ring.

"Hello" the voice was feminine, familiar.

"Amita, hi. It's Robin. Remember that little talk we had a few weeks ago about how certain people could use a little push getting together?" She waited.

"You mean the one that followed a few too many glasses of fine California red?" Amita asked in a slightly sheepish tone.

"Um hum, that's the one" Robin said, not at all embarrassed herself.

"Why do I think I should just say no" Amita told her.

"Uh, uh. Too late to back out now. I need a partner in crime and you're elected. I've got some work to do on a case, but I'll call you back later" Robin broke the connection before Amita could respond, smiling to herself with anticipation. With any luck at all, neither of the two people she and Amita were about to aim at each other would have a clue until it was too late.

And so it was that Professor Charles Eppes found himself hosting a dinner party four nights later. The guest list consisted of Amita, his brother Don, Robin Brooks, one of Robin's co-workers, a lady named Kerri Walton, and, Colby Granger. Charlie was the most uneasy about the invite to Colby. Uneasy because he knew Colby had no idea he was being set up on what amounted to a blind date.

Charlie still wasn't entirely sure how he found himself in this position. One minute he and Amita were in his classroom during a lull discussing linear partial differential equations and the next thing Charlie knew, he was an accomplice to what a lot of single guys would consider a crime of gender betrayal. The assurances from Robin, by way of Don, that Kerri Walton was a very attractive young woman who was perfect for Colby did little to calm the butterfly colony that had settled in Charlie's midsection. He could only hope the evening went well, and that in the event it did not, that Granger wouldn't hold it against him long. The professor would have felt better about the whole thing if David Sinclair had been able to make it, but David already had plans for the evening. He'd informed Charlie that since nights off for his brother's team happened, as Sinclair had put it, about as often as cows gave chocolate milk, he fully intended to take advantage of this one. Charlie suspected there was a lady involved but David wasn't talking on that subject. The younger Eppes had tried to get his father to co-host, but Alan begged off, claiming he had a "working dinner" planned with his business partner.

So far, so good, Charlie thought to himself a little later, with Amita helping him set the table and bring in food Alan had prepared before leaving(at least he'd helped that much) Charlie considered somewhat peevishly. Of course, Colby hadn't arrived yet, but when the nervous math genius looked over at the FBI agent's prospective dinner companion, he felt a little calmer. Long dark hair framed an attractive face highlighted by jade green eyes. Kerri seemed to be a very smart, personable lady with a lively sense of humor. Maybe it would all work out after all, Charlie thought. Yes, it would. No worries. Nooooooo worries. There was a knock on the door. Don, who was closest, answered to admit Colby, showered, shaved, casually well dressed, and relaxed. He smilingly greeted Charlie, his boss, Robin and Amita and then waited to be introduced to the only person in the room he didn't know, whose back was to him. A sensation of dread set in as the woman's feature's registered in his brain. He could see his reaction of surprised displeasure mirrored in her face as she turned and recognized him. A tick of stunned silence and then simultaneously, both responded with a dismayed "You!"

Things just sort of steadily went downhill after that, Charlie glumly reflected. The full story of the parking garage saga emerged after seeing the manner in which Colby Granger and Kerri Walton greeted one another. Apparently, time did not heal all wounds. The horrible first impression they had formed of each other hadn't softened with the passage of a few days. A somewhat tentative suggestion by Robin that they sit down to dinner was greeted by a brittle smile from Kerri. The new DA calmly took a seat, _in between_ Don and Robin, as far from Colby as she could possibly be. For his part, only the small town etiquette drilled in to him as a child in Winchester kept Granger from turning down Charlie's dinner, walking to his truck and driving home. After two hours of pointedly ignoring Kerri Walton as much as possible, with her looking dagger at him the entire time, Colby was finally able to escape, resolving to be wary of casual invitations to Charlie's from then on.

Closing the door behind his brother and Robin, who was Amita's co-conspirator in arranging the evening, and who was now in the process of explaining herself to Don, Charlie turned to Amita.

"I knew this was terrible idea! I just knew it! I never should have let you talk me into it! I wonder how long it will be before Colby talks to me again. I only said yes because I…" he stopped, struck by the look of pure misery on Amita's face.

"Oh, honey. Please, don't be upset. You meant well, you and Robin. I know that. Don't listen to me whine. It'll be ok. Colby will get over it. So will Kerri. Besides, I can't say no to you. Come on, it'll be alright." It took some doing, but he managed, through heroic sacrifice on his part, to sooth and kiss her into a brighter mood. Colby and Kerri were on their own, Charlie decided _much_ later, as Amita, her head tucked into the space between his chin and shoulder, slept peacefully.

Listening to the driving rain outside and padding thru his apartment in sweats, a T-shirt and bare feet, Colby Granger sipped a cold beer and tried not to think of all the other activities that could have taken up his night off. Any of which would have been better than enduring a tense dinner with Ms. Kerri "how dare you presume to save me from getting my head blown off!" Walton glaring at him down the length of Charlie Eppes's dining room table.

After his run in with the homicidally wacky Daly family a few months ago, he'd started attending a vet's group. One of the things he'd made up his mind about as a result of those sessions was his determination to get back the balance Lancer and the whole Chinese spy mess had stolen from his life . That included meeting somebody he could share it with. It was just turning out to be a little harder than he'd thought it would that was all. He laughed wryly. He had some good friends, and he could appreciate their trying to help.

"I'll give Charlie a call in the morning" he decided. The whiz kid was probably afraid Colby was steamed about the moderately disastrous, poorly disguised blind date. "I survived. And if 'Ms. I can take care of my myself, I don't need no help' wants to think I'm some sort of kill-em-all-and-let-God-sort-em-out gunslinger, then she can just…" He broke off his silent dismal of the infuriating Kerri Walton when his doorbell rang. He checked the clock. Midnight straight up. Finishing off his beer, he marched to the door, prepared to quickly get rid of whoever it was, unless it was one of his teammates, of course. The last face he expected to see was Kerri Walton, looking as amazed to be standing on his doorstep as he was to have her there, belted trench dripping from the sudden, rare LA downpour. She stepped past him uninvited into the apartment.

"I think you and I got off on the wrong foot," she started. "I came to see if maybe it's possible for us to start over."

Colby recovered himself enough to close the door and turned to respond.

"Oh" was all that came out. Kerri was walking towards him wearing the sexy black heels she'd had on the day they'd met, and absolutely, positively nothing else.


End file.
